Broken
by A Phantom's Muse
Summary: Focuses on Christian's childhood before and after the Grey's. Planned to be a multi-chapter. Rated M - includes violence and offensive language. May change POV from chapter to chapter. Disclaimer: I don't own Fifty Shades Trilogy or any of it's characters, simply my take on Christian's childhood based on what's mentioned in the books written by EL James.
1. Broken

I reread last night's Dear Diary FF and the reviews. I am thinking it is not working, being a half-empty-glass person I prefer angsty...or I will unleash a horrible fluffy bunny. So to make it up to those who reviewed Dear Diary...I like this idea better and I think I can be more creative with it, so I will plan a multi-chapter arc of Christian's childhood.** NB: Christian's POV.**

O' Children - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

* * *

Light trickled into the grey room, not reaching his safe haven underneath the wooden table. Large grey orbs framed by long lashes adjusted to the darkness. Christian hid underneath his blankie, on the mound of pillows. He gazed at the familiar surroundings. Debris of bottles, cans and take away boxes decorated the stained carpet. Across the room, Mommy laid on Her stomach on the brown couch. Long chocolate hair sprawled over a sleeping face, Her left arm hanging from the edge of the soiled couch, hand loosely grasping the neck of a bottle.

_She looks like an Angel,_ Christian thought. Mommy's familiar sounds of soft snores resonated against the rotting walls, disrupted by a familiar growl in his tummy. _Hungry. _Grasping his blue blankie in one small fist, he crawled out of his retreat, poking his head out to check if _He _was out there. _Not here. _ A tiny boy with unkempt copper hair surfaced from the shadows. He resembled a china doll, fragile and ashen, clothed in undersized pyjamas. He toddled across the messy maze of litter, towards Mommy. _Mommy. _ Kneeling beside Her, he brushed the disarray of brown strands with his little digits, out of Her still face. _Soft. _He draped the small blankie across Her shoulders. The welcoming smell of his Mommy's cheap perfume filled his small nose. _Pretty. _The edges of his cerise lips curled upwards.

Thoughts disrupted by the growing rumble in his tummy. _So hungry. _Glancing one last time at Mommy, Christian stood up. Ambling through the room, grey eyes scanned the room, looking for food. Picking up a strewn take away box, he peeked inside. _Noodles. _He sniffed the grub, nose scrunching up at the odour, but his tummy protested at the lack of food. Taking the gummy noodles in his right hand, he shoved it in his mouth, hunger overwhelming the off taste. The tang left in his mouth was vile but his appetite was satiated, the pain in his abdomen dulled. It felt like days since he last ate.

_Thirsty. Water. _He made his way through the room to the washed out bathroom. Tipping on his toes on the white tiles, he pulled the cord beside the looming door. The fluorescent lights flickered on, momentarily blinding him. Christian climbed on the grimy toilet, using it to reach the sink beside it. Turning the tap, he felt the gush of water through his little fingers. _Cold. _He drank from his cupped hands, quenching his thirst.

Voices shouting curses outside shattered the safe silence. _He's here. _Christian's eyes widened, his breathing became erratic, muscles shaking. Closing the tap, he crept to the door, stealing a look at the living room. _He's not in here. Not yet. Hide. Before He comes. _Christian looked around the bleak bathroom. Grey eyes darted to the cupboard beneath the sink. _There. _He rushed to it, opening the cupboard, there was space, big enough for him to fit. _Quick!_ He curled into the gloomy cupboard, closing the door. Darkness. The smell of disinfectant suffocated him.

Cue the orchestrated sounds playing the familiar concerto of fear and pain...

Heavy footsteps. Silence.

His chest pounded. His breathing was erratic. Two small hands clasp his mouth. _Quiet! _

_Get up! Get up, you fucking bitch! _THUD. _It's your fault. Your fucking fault. _THUD. THUD. THUD. Silence.

The sound of breaking glass pierced the air. The muted sounds of fist meeting limbs, accompanied by stifled cries.

_You worthless whore! You are nothing. _

_Please...I don't...I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

THUD. Silence.

_Mommy! _Christian covered his ears. _No more. No more. No more. _Letting go of his mouth, he covered his ears, hopelessly trying to silence the familiar tragic symphony that engulfed him. He cowered further into the darkness, trying to escape the sounds of beating, escape the dark feelings he felt. Anger coursed through the young boy, fear pierced his soul, hurt made his heart heavy.

The little copper-haired boy found solace in the safety of the shadows.


	2. Grey Room

Thank you for all that read the last chapter, especially those who reviewed - _lisalilac, Lynne, mkmrider (whose stuff are pretty epic, so go read!)._ Here is another, following right after the last chapter, but in the third person POV. I may change POV as I write because all the characters, like Ella, needs more depth! Anyhoos, enjoy :D

Grey Room - Damien Rice

* * *

Grey eyes tuned to the darkness. Christian felt outside time, an escapee from his harsh reality – but not for long. His legs ached to be stretched – he shifted in vain. Blood was not getting to his extremities, but he'd rather face this darkness than _his _fiery fury. The shouting had stopped but the sound of sobbing passed through the wood of the cupboard.

Clutching his blanket tighter with his right grubby hand, he gingerly reached for the cupboard door, pushing it to allow a sliver of light into his safe haven. Sensitive grey orbs squinting to adjust to the outside world. Christian stilled his breathing, waiting and looking for signs of danger.

_He's gone._

Carefully he opened the door wider, finally stretching his scrawny legs, his stiff muscles relaxing. Ungainly crouching on all fours, he moved towards the grey door, his blanket dragging behind him. Using the door frame, he stood himself up, keeping hidden from view of anyone in the bleak motel room outside.

_Mommy?_

He stole a peek outside the bathroom.

_Mommy! Mommy's hurt!_

Ella laid there on the stained carpet beside the couch, one arm clutching her stomach and the other sprawled above her brown hair. Christian ran to her.

_Oh Momma. No. _

Her crying ebbed into weeping, about her shit situation, about that fucking man, about Christian, her baby...but she couldn't even protect him let alone herself. She wallowed in self-pity and resentment. At everyone. At everything. At herself.

Christian lay beside her, forgetting about his blanket on the littered floor. He brushed his small digits through her messy mane. Tears trickled down his round cheeks. They lay there in silence, until gradually she was too exhausted to cry any longer. Christian was weary too, but he didn't mind being close with her and brushing her hair. Through the brown veil of hair, grey eyes met his own.

Ella saw a frightened little boy. In his eyes, she saw the fear, too much for someone so young. She also saw hurt, pain from the shit _he _did, shit _she _didn't do. But hurt that she was hurting. _Concern. _For me. She thought how pathetic this little boy was, his concern for her was useless – a little boy could never change anything. And moreover, it was not earned – she could never be enough to be a good mother, she never set out to be. This little boy _loved_ her. _How stupid, _she thought. _What does he know about love? _

Despite all that, it was all a deflection – a denial of her true feelings. Ella wouldn't admit that she loved this little boy; she was confused by his existence in her life. Here he was, worried for her, even though she thought his existence was an inconvenience. _She thought. _Now she wasn't too sure. He was _her_ son, who seems to love her endlessly, despite her shortcomings and her faults, unlike anyone else. It was nice to be loved. But unluckily she was his mother, who couldn't care for him. How could she? She was a drug addict who had nothing going for her. Like everyone else, there was an expectation. Her boyfriend expected a submissive whore, her son expected a mother. Something she couldn't be. This ineptitude of motherhood, her little boy so deserved, made her feel unworthy of his love. But it was easier to dismiss this love as obtuse, the little boy's lack of understanding of the world.

The throbbing in her stomach subdued but her heart still hung heavy. Her eyes were sore from the tears shed. Christian moved his fingers from her hair to her face, tracing the bruised lips. To Christian, she was an angel, his Mommy, his friend, _his. _There were days where she just slept throughout the day, coming home late from _work_ or with her _friends_. Some days, she had to work longer hours with multiple customers and she couldn't get one of the other girls to watch over him, so she had to tell him to wait in the car. But there were times, rarely but sometimes, they spent some time together at the park or at the mall. Christian wondered when she didn't have to work again, when they could play tag in the mall or go on the swings. He hoped they would soon.

A trace of a smile etched on Ella's face, but it didn't reach her grey eyes.


End file.
